Hoping for Christmas
by Healer Pomfrey
Summary: Due to a technical defect, the Dursleys for once need Harry's expertise, and eight-year-old Harry gets his hopes up for Christmas. Set before Hogwarts, completely AU, partly OOC, mentioning of abuse!Dursleys.


**Hoping for Christmas**  
**by Healer Pomfrey**

_All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.  
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes._

* * *

Eight-year-old Harry Potter busied himself cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, relieved that his uncle and cousin had retreated to the living room to watch TV. _'Thank God, they're gone. Uncle Vernon was not exactly in a good mood tonight,'_ he thought, almost dropping the plate that he was just drying in shock, when Vernon Dursley's voice suddenly roared in the hall.

"Petunia, the TV doesn't work."

"Is it properly plugged in?" Petunia queried, already hurrying down the stairs, "And the antenna?"

"Everything's plugged in," Vernon growled, impatiently. "I'm not that stupid."

_'Oh no,'_ Harry thought, knowing from experience that his uncle was going to let out his anger on him if his aunt was unable to get the TV to work. He remained thoughtful, while finishing the kitchen. _'On the one hand, it would be good for Dudley to spend some time reading his school books instead of watching TB,'_ he mused. On the other hand, Uncle Vernon would surely make him, Harry, responsible if he couldn't use his most favourite toy, the TV, since Harry was a good for nothing freak.

_'Right, I'm a freak,'_ he recalled, _'maybe I can get the TV to work again.'_

During the last two years, Harry had realised that he was sometimes capable of wishing things. For example, once he had managed to wish himself on top of the school roof, when Dudley and his gang had been chasing him, or another time he had rescued one of Mrs. Figg's cats from Vernon's car. Ever since he had become aware of his ability, he had secretly practised it, trying to unobtrusively using it to his advantage.

Harry hesitantly entered the living room, where the Dursleys were helplessly staring at the TV.

"Now boy, are you happy?" Veron growled, glaring at the boy. "It's all your fault! Now use your good for nothing freakishness and get this thing to work again."

"I'll try, sir," Harry replied quietly, looking at the TV. _'I want this to work again,'_ he thought, concentrating on the wish, like he had practised it many times before. He slowly felt his energy leave his body and at the same time sensed a tingling feeling in his right hand and arm. Just when he began to feel exhausted, the TV went live again.

"Ah stop it and get out of here; it works again," Vernon said, impatiently waving him away with his hand.

_'I made it work, you fool,'_ Harry thought, grinning inwardly, when he heard the news announcer explain that parts of the south east will have poor or no TV reception until at least after Christmas due to a fire in a transponder.

"It must be Harry's doing that we can watch TV at all," he heard Petunia say, just when he opened the door to his cupboard with a small smile playing on his lips.

_'Maybe Uncle Vernon will get used to my freakishness,'_ was his last thought, before he let himself sink on his mattress in exhaustion, falling asleep within seconds.

From the following afternoon onwards, the women of the neighbourhood gathered in the Dursleys' living room to watch TV, as the news that the Dursleys were not affected by the transponder break down spread all over Privet Drive like a wildfire. In the evenings, they were joined by their husbands.

Although Harry became very busy baking and cooking for his relatives' guests, he felt extremely happy about the fact that his aunt and uncle finally accepted or more even respected his freakish abilities. His aunt even allowed him small portions of each of the Dursleys' meals and did not give him as many chores to do as she normally did. _'Maybe they even won't lock me into the cupboard for Christmas this year,'_ he thought, not daring to hope that his wish might become true.

HP

It was a few days later, on the first day of Harry's and Dudley's winter holidays, that Harry woke up feeling awful. His head hurt badly, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. _'Oh no, I'm sick,'_ he realised, as he slowly dragged himself out of his cupboard, knowing that his aunt would not be willing to excuse him from making breakfast. His relatives used to ignore when Harry was unwell, they merely made sure that he didn't come near Dudley to prevent him from infesting his cousin with his ailments.

Harry quietly made toast and coffee for his family, for once relieved that he was not allowed to sit at the table with them. He even refused the slice of toast with jam, which Petunia offered him, and slowly finished his work.

"Switch on the TV, freak," Dudley ordered him, wanting to spend the whole day lazing in front of the TV like he used to do every free minute of his holidays.

Harry slowly followed his aunt into the living room, longing to return to his cupboard for a nap. He raised his right arm, which felt strangely heavy this morning. _'Please switch on,'_ he thought, pointing at the TV. However, instead of the usual tingling sensation, he felt a sharp pain running through his arm that quickly spread all over his body. The room began to tilt in front of his eyes, before the world around him turned black.

When his mind turned back to awareness, he found himself lying on the floor in the living room. Dudley was leaning over him with his water pistol pointed at Harry's face, slowly shooting water at his cousin.

"Stop it," Harry muttered, shivering violently.

"Only if you get up and switch on the TV," Dudley growled, shooting another splash of water.

Harry slowly sat up. Somehow, his head felt as if it was filled with cotton wool, and the room still seemed to be moving. "I don't feel well," he whispered to his aunt, who had just entered the room and was watching him in expectance.

Apparently realising that he was in no condition to switch on the TV, Petunia surprisingly gently helped him up and led him into his cupboard.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, gratefully, as he let himself sink onto his mattress, unable to keep his teeth from chattering. He flinched back badly when Petunia unexpectedly extended her hand to feel his forehead.

"Wait a moment," she said and swiftly left the cupboard.

Harry turned to the wall, knowing from experience that Petunia would not bother to try making him feel better like she always did with Dudley when he was sick. However, to his surprise, his aunt came back after a moment, placing a box of medicine and a glass of water on the shelf next to his bed, before she slid an ice-cold stick into his mouth, causing Harry to feel even more miserable.

It seemed like an infinite time, before Petunia plucked the device from his mouth and announced, "You have a very high fever. I'll give you some medicine, and I hope it'll be better in two hours."

_'Medicine? But freaks are not allowed medicine,'_ Harry's mind screamed, as he obediently swallowed a spoonful of liquid that Petunia held out to him, followed by a glass of water.

"Sleep now," Petunia ordered him and left the room.

By the time his aunt woke him up to check on him again, Harry did not feel better at all. "Still forty degrees," Petunia mumbled to herself, "and Vernon will have a fit if Harry can't switch on the TV tonight." Aloud she said, "I better take you to the doctor."

Harry looked at the woman in surprise. _'But freaks don't get to go to doctors,'_ he thought, as he allowed Petunia to bring him into an upright position and usher him out of the cupboard. _'I really don't want to face Uncle Vernon if I can't manage to switch on the TV though,'_ he mused, as he dragged himself along the street behind his aunt, unconsciously sighing in relief, when Petunia stopped in front of a large, white house merely two streets away from Privet Drive.

The doctor was a middle aged man, who seemed very friendly. Harry felt too bad to care that the man thoroughly checked on him using various devices, which seemed strange to him, who had never been to a doctor before. However, he looked up in shock, when the doctor finally said, "I can't find anything wrong with the boy, apart from the high fever. I'll prescribe something for the fever, and if there is no change by tomorrow, we might have to send him to the hospital in order to assess what's ailing him."

"I don't want to go to a hospital," Harry whispered, frightened, when he left the doctor's house together with his aunt.

"Who'd take a freak to the hospital?" Petunia replied, sharply, feverishly trying to come up with a method to make Harry better before Vernon was going to come home. _'It's probably a magical illness,'_ she thought, _'considering that he fell ill when he was trying to do magic. I'll contact Severus Snape. The urchin was Lily's best friend, he'll surely be willing to help her son.'_ Knowing that Arabella Figg possessed a small, old owl, she instructed Harry to return home and made the small detour to the cat loving lady's house.

Mrs. Figg greeted her friendly but with apparent surprise. "I'm sorry to disturb you," Petunia apologized. "Would it be possible to borrow your owl for a few hours? Dudley has to do a holiday assignment about owls."

The old lady cast her an astonished look, however, replied, "Of course you may borrow Lucy for a little while. Please take good care of her though."

"I will," Petunia reassured the neighbour, sighing in relief when Mrs. Figg handed her the owl in a small cage. _'She surely doesn't know that owls can send letters,'_ she mused on her way home, remembering all too well how Lily had sent letters from Hogwarts with these annoying school owls that used to try stealing from her breakfast. Today, however, Petunia needed to use this transportation method for her own purpose.

HP

A few hours later, Harry woke up to voices coming from the hall.

"Show us to the boy's room," a male voice demanded, sounding impatient.

"He was too weak to climb upstairs and fell asleep in the cupboard," Petunia lied, before she hurriedly opened the cupboard's door.

Harry observed, bewildered, how a man, completely dressed in black clothes, leaned down and crouched into the cupboard, followed by a woman, who was wearing a large, white one-piece. Petunia remained in the doorframe.

Suddenly, the woman pulled a stick out of her pocket, pointing it at Harry. _'Like in my bad dream,'_ the boy thought, horrified, and pulled up his bed covers in a faint attempt to hide from the unknown visitors.

"Leave it to Potter to make such a ruckus," the man drawled, unkindly pulling away the thin blanket.

Harry couldn't help shivering violently, not only because of the loss of his bed cover but also due to the coldness in the man's voice.

_'I thought Aunt Petunia called these people to help me, but they seem to hate me, too,'_ he thought, sadly.

"Since when did you feel unwell, Harry?" the white lady queried in a surprisingly gentle voice, placing her strange stick back into her pocket.

"Since I tried to switch on the TV by doing freaky things," Harry replied, quietly, unsure if he was supposed to talk about his freakishness in front of these people.

"Showing off your magic?" the man asked, his voice laced with clear disapproval. "There is a reason why young wizards and witches have to wait until they're eleven, before they can attend Hogwarts, and they're certainly not allowed to do magic in front of Muggles."

"Hogwarts? Muggles?" Harry mouthed, looking at the unfriendly man with interest.

However, the man completely ignored him, and the woman once again waved her strange stick over him. Only when she let it sink again did Harry realise that she had caused the tingly sensation, which had just run up and down his body - the same feeling that he always felt in his arm, when he did funny things.

"Harry is suffering from magical exhaustion," the lady announced in a stern voice.

Harry looked at his visitors with bewilderment. The words 'There is no such thing as magic' lay on his tongue. However, he kept quiet, noticing in awe how seemingly out of nothing a phial with a lime green liquid appeared in the woman's hand. _'She must be a freak like me,' _he mused, _'strange.'_

The woman turned to Petunia, instructing her in a firm voice, "Harry needs a spoonful of this every four hours, and he must not use any magic for at least two weeks."

Petunia let out a snort, causing the man to glare at Harry. "No magic whatsoever," he said in a voice that made Harry resist questioning about the existence of magic.

"Get well soon," the white lady said kindly, before she left the cupboard behind Petunia and the black man.

From the hall, Harry could hear Petunia complain, "How can I prevent that good for nothing freak from doing magic? It would be better if you could take him with you. He's such a nuisance to me and my family."

However, from the lack of response Harry understood that the visitors seemed to have left. A little while later, Petunia returned to the cupboard and brought a spoon for him. "Take one spoonful," she instructed the boy.

Harry complied, realising in surprise that he immediately felt much better.

"Now sleep," Petunia ordered him and left.

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, sleepily. He turned to the wall and drifted off into a potions induced slumber, dreaming of white angels and black devils.

HP

At the same time, two friends made their way from the Apparition boarder to Hogwarts, each of them deep in thoughts.

"Petunia's still a bitch," the man in black was the first to speak up, pointing his wand at himself to exchange his Muggle attire with his black school robes.

"Severus, do you think the Dursleys treat Harry well?" his friend asked, looking at him in apparent concern.

"I'm not sure," the Potions Master replied, thoughtfully. "At least he's not pampered like one would assume considering who he is. Nonsense that he didn't make it upstairs. The cupboard is his room."

The Healer let out a gasp. "Severus, are you sure? Why would Mrs. Dursley lie to us though?"

"Because she wouldn't want us to believe that they're keeping the saviour of the magical world in the cupboard under the stairs," Snape replied, shortly. "There was a scribbling at the wall. It said 'Harry's room.'"

The two friends quietly continued their walk through the snow, unable to force the picture of the small boy in his cupboard from their minds.

Only when they reached the entrance doors, the Healer spoke up again. "Christmas Eve is in three days' time. By then he should be back to health. Would you accompany me to the Dursleys' once more to check on the child? Just to be sure that everything is all right with him?"

"Very well," the younger wizard agreed, giving the older witch a comforting nod, before he turned in the direction of the dungeons.

HP

Harry woke up when his aunt shook his shoulder, holding out the spoon to him, which he had used earlier. "Here. Take another spoonful of the medicine, and then try to switch on the TV before our neighbours come to watch."

He obediently licked the lime green liquid off the spoon, immediately feeling the effects of the potion. Still feeling very weak, he slowly scrambled out of his cupboard and headed to the living room.

_'Oh please switch on, this just has to work,'_ he frantically wished, noticing in relief that the tingling sensation was back in his arm. As soon as he saw the TV switch on, he let his now again very heavy arm sink, before he once again collapsed on the floor. The next thing he knew was that he was back in his cupboard and Petunia woke him up instructing him to take his medicine again.

During the next few days, Harry spent most of the time sleeping. Every four hours, Petunia rose him, but the medicine always made him sleep again. Once a day, in the morning, he was instructed to switch on the TV, and he always managed to do so, even if he always ended up unconscious and Petunia had to carry him back to his cupboard.

One day, however, his aunt wouldn't allow him to go back to sleep after taking his medicine. "Today is Christmas Eve, and I need you to cook for Christmas," she instructed the boy.

"I hope you did it properly today," Vernon roared, as Harry stepped into the hall. "Last night the TV went out much too early, and tonight the whole neighbourhood will come to watch TV here."

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry wearily replied and dragged himself to the kitchen. Even if the medicine made him feel better each time, he was still feeling very weak and feverish. _'I just have to go through this; maybe this year I'll be allowed to have Christmas with them,'_ he mused, as he slowly began to gather his ingredients.

Two hours later, Harry had just finished cooking dinner for Christmas Eve and was about to begin preparing the meal for Christmas day, when the door bell rang. Knowing that no one would come to see him, he concentrated on the task at hand, absentmindedly noticing that Aunt Petunia went to open the door. However, his attention became diverted, when he suddenly heard his name.

"We came to check on Harry," someone said, making Harry wonder where he had heard that voice before. _'Oh that's the man in black who came together with the white angel,'_ he mused, as he busied himself peeling potatoes.

"The freak's in the kitchen," Petunia said shortly and returned to the living room.

An instant later, the lady in the white one-piece entered the kitchen, followed by the man in black.

"Hello Harry," the woman addressed him in a soft voice.

"Hello," Harry replied, putting down the knife and the potato. "Thank you so much for giving me the medicine," he said politely, adding in a barely audible voice, "although I'm a freak and not worth the medicine."

"You... WHAT?" the man in black asked sharply, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. "Does your aunt call you a freak?"

Harry cringed under the stern look. "Yes sir," he then replied in a small voice.

"And she also told you that you're not worth the medicine?" the man enquired.

"Yes sir, usually I'm not allowed..." Harry slowly trailed off, seeing that the woman once again pulled her strange stick out of her pocket. _'It must be a wand,'_ he realised.

"Harry, you're not a freak, and of course you're allowed to have medicine when you need it," the woman said in a soft voice and pulled a chair from the table, motioning Harry to sit down. "Let me quickly check on you." Seeing Harry nod, she waved her wand over him a few times, before she turned to her friend. "Severus, his condition is not much better than three days ago. His magic is at barely ten percent, and his temperature still exceeds 39 degrees."

"Harry," the man once more addressed him, "did you regularly take the medicine?"

"Yes sir," Harry replied, feeling slightly anxious at the strict voice. "Aunt Petunia woke me up every four hours."

After a few more minutes of interrogating Harry, the Potions Master and the Healer exchanged a furious look. No words were necessary for the common decision.

"I'll speak with them," Snape promised and headed out towards the living room, where he found the three Dursleys watching TV.

"Harry, we're going to take you with us to Hogwarts," the kind lady explained to him, gently pushing an errand strand of hair out of his face.

"Just go and take the freak with you," Harry heard Uncle Vernon bellow, instinctively flinching back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We're with you, so he's not going to do anything to you," the Healer said soothingly, causing Harry to give her a relieved smile.

Together they observed how the Potions Master looked into Harry's cupboard and waved his wand, before he returned to the kitchen and queried, "Harry, do you have any belongings that you want to take with you?"

"No," Harry replied, quietly.

"Well, then let's go," the woman said in determination. She held out her left hand and motioned Harry and the professor to touch her ring. "You'll feel a slight pull behind your navel, and then the world will turn around; this is a method of magical transportation and the fastest and easiest way to take you with me," she explained gently, causing Harry to give her a frightened nod. "Don't worry, sweetie, we'll be with you the whole time," she added soothingly, before she spoke the activating password.

HP

A few minutes later, Harry found himself in a crispy white bed in a large, bright room. "I am Poppy Pomfrey and this is our Potions Master, Professor Snape," the Healer informed Harry and added, "We're at Hogwarts, a boarding school for magical children."

In the meantime, the professor had fetched a small goblet, which he now pressed against Harry's lips and coaxed him into drinking the dark green liquid completely. Harry complied, noticing that he felt much better, before he drifted off to sleep within seconds.

When he woke up, an older woman, who was wearing a dark green one-piece, was sitting on the edge of his bed, engrossed in a conversation with the white lady and an old man who looked like Father Christmas.

"Harry, my dear," the green lady said, enthusiastically, upon noticing that he had woken up. "Do you remember me? I am Aunt Minerva. I often baby-sat you, when you were a baby. I was a good friend of your mother."

A huge smile spread over Harry's face. "You knew my mother?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yes sweety, your parents were both my students," the professor explained, before she introduced the Father Christmas like figure. "This is Professor Dumbledore, our Headmaster. And Madam Pomfrey you know already. Now you need to tell me about you though," she continued. "Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape told us that your relatives didn't properly care for you and that they think you should better stay with us at Hogwarts for the three years until you're going to become a student here anyway. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes, I'd like that very much," Harry replied, hesitating, as a voice from the back of his mind told him, _'They'll notice that I'm a freak and will send me away anyway.'_

The professor nodded contentedly. "Is it true that you lived in a cupboard?" McGonagall queried, and Harry noticed something like concern in her expression.

"I live in the cupboard under the stairs, and the Dursleys always lock me in over Christmas, so I won't disturb their holidays, because I'm a freak and a burden and Father Christmas won't bring Christmas for a freak anyway. But I'm supposed to cook the meals for Christmas, and I haven't finished," he added as an afterthought. "Aunt Petunia will be so angry."

The three adults, who were listening to the barely audible whispering, cast each other horrified looks.

"Harry, you are neither a freak nor a burden to anyone, and your aunt won't be upset, because you're not going to return to your relatives anymore." McGonagall told him firmly. "You're a wizard just like we are witches and wizards. We live here in a magical school, which all magical children from the age of eleven onwards attend. Your parents were here at this school too."

"But I can't be... I'm only Harry, a good for nothing freak and a burden that nobody loves," Harry whispered in disbelief." Memories of his school teacher's hair dyed blue or himself summoning a piece of chalk in the classroom appeared in front of Harry's mind as he mouthed in amazement, "A wizard?"

"Yes, a wizard," the black teacher, who chose that instant to appear from behind Harry's bed, repeated. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore has appointed me your guardian. Would you care accompanying me to my quarters and take a look at your new room?"

Harry was just about to happily agree to the suggestion, when Professor McGonagall threw in, "No Severus, it's almost dinner time, and we should take Harry with us to the Great Hall for dinner. Afterwards he might want to watch us decorating the Christmas tree."

HP

Two hours later, the Potions Master sent Harry to bed in his new room, which Harry found absolutely gorgeous. _'My own room and it's so nice with the white and blue colours and the huge window looking out to the lake. I'm the happiest boy in the world,'_ he thought, happily smiling at his new guardian.

"Now Harry, go to sleep," the professor said in a soft, baritone voice. "When you wake up, it's already Christmas Day, and we're going to attend breakfast in the Great Hall, were you'll be able to look for your presents under the tree."

"But I never get Christmas presents," Harry replied, horrified, casting the professor an anxious look.

Onyx eyes stared back at him, before the professor told him, "Harry, I am sure that I've seen more than one present under the tree that was labelled 'Harry'."

A huge smile spread over Harry's face, as he lay back and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a magical castle with moving pictures, freaks like himself and his first real Christmas.

**The End**

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_**Merry Christmas my dear readers!**_


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